


Push and Pull

by Trotzkopf



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sneaking Around, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, slightly unhealthy relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Trotzkopf
Summary: There is always the one you can never quit. You know the one. Why should Havelock and Sam be any different?





	1. Push

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to tumblr prompts. “Is that what you’re doing? Trying to make me hate you?” and “You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

“No, you made that very clear. We’re done. Don’t let me detain you,” Vetinari said sharply before he shifted his focus to his paperwork. Only the tension in his jaw betrayed his annoyance. 

Vimes growled under his breath, ripped the door open and made a point of banging it shut behind him. 

Thud! 

“Tsk. Predictable.” Vetinari mumbled under his breath.

Thud!

“Two? Well, well.” His eyes drifting to the door. “I shall have to make another appointment with the plasterer.” He made a note. 

Thud! Thud THUD!

“DAMNIT!” Vimes shouted before the door flew open again. He strode into the office and around the desk until he was within touching distance of the Patrician. 

Vetinari kept his eyes on the report, occasionally making a note in the margins while Sam seethed and dripped blood onto the carpet. 

“Why?” hissed Vimes.

“Hm?” Havelock raised his eyes as if he’d only now noticed Sam’s presence. 

“You arrogant—“ Something inside the commander snapped, he grabbed Vetinari’s robe and hauled him onto his feet, their noses almost touching. Havelock offered no resistance, his eyes radiating cold distain. Sam shook him a few times before he repeated the question. 

“Because you made your decision, commander. And I told you before whichever it would be, it’s final. I’m not a toy, and while we’re on the subject…” 

Vimes hissed through gritted teeth when Havelock’s fingers curled hard around the bloody mess that was Sam’s right hand, but he stubbornly held on until he felt the sharp point of a dagger prick him in rather less protected parts. 

“That’s quite enough,” Vetinari stated. Sam grunted and let him go. The dagger disappeared. Vetinari smoothed down his hair and wrinkled his nose as he watched Vimes suck on his knuckles. 

“Get out,” he commanded. 

“No,” Vimes growled, cradling his injured hand. 

They stared at each other, shoulders heaving. Again, it was Sam who reacted first. His mouth opened and closed a few times, looking for the words. 

“I made a mistake.” 

Vetinari blinked once, his nostrils flaring. “It’s done. Forget it and move on. I intend to.” He sat back down and picked up the report. 

When a weight settled on his shoulder, he shrugged it off and said, “I’m sorry but given your temper tantrum I think you’re under the misapprehension that what happened had any meaning beyond physical relief of tension. Rest assured, it did not. And you chose not to repeat it. There’s nothing left to say and I have a full schedule. I trust you remember where the door is.” 

“It was a mistake,” Sam repeated quietly. 

“Maybe, but we can’t change the past. Let’s not dwell on it.”

Vimes whispered, “No, I shouldn’t have…when I said I didn’t want to continue…I…”

Havelock turned to him. Sam stood with his head bowed. When he noticed Vetinari was looking, he lifted his head, something like hope flickering across his features. “I still—“

“It wasn’t that good.” 

Vimes’ eyes flew open before he silently nodded, lips pressed together in a grim line. Havelock’s face was deadpan. 

“I see. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Sam asked with a mirthless chuckle. He sighed. “Have it your way, your lordship. I used to hate your guts, I’m sure I can do it again, if that’s what you want.” He ripped off a smart salute and marched out of the office. He didn’t bother to close the door.

Vetinari stared a few more moments at the Vimes-shaped hole in the room. 

“No, it’s not,” he whispered, “it’s not.” 

Vetinari cleared his throat and focussed his attention on the reports again, making a note that he also needed to get the carpet cleaned. 


	2. Pull

The party was too loud, too bright and too full of nobby bastards. Why Sybil insisted on dragging him to these occasions was beyond Vimes’ understanding, but he always acquiesced because his wife was kind and forgiving. Two qualities he valued in a partner, especially on a night like this when he was bound to make a fool of himself. 

Kindness and forgiving were characteristics the owner of the voice seriously lacked. “Good evening, commander.” 

Sam’s spine straightened out of its own accord. He didn’t even turn around when he replied, “Your lordship.” 

Vimes took a deep breath. He hadn’t seen Havelock since the incident, having found excuses to send other officers to make the daily report to the palace. 

“How is your hand?” 

Vimes automatically looked at it and flexed his fingers. The bruises had almost completely faded. “Fine.” 

“The wall needed to be partially rebuild and I had to replace the carpet.”

Sam snorted, “Feel free to send me the bill.”

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw that Havelock was looking at him. “I have.” 

“Of course you did,” scoffed Vimes. He flexed the muscles in his jaw as he turned to look into cold, blue eyes. His stomach dropped. Nothing had changed. 

During their last meeting certain words had been exchanged and Sam might have damaged the palace a bit, but it was nothing compared to the damage done to his pride or his feelings. He suspected he wasn’t alone in this given how Vetinari was staring at him.

Damn it! He needed to get away, but his knees seemed to have turned to rubber. But before he could muster the strength to flee Havelock said, “If you’ll excuse me,” and purposefully strode away to greet a foreign dignitary, leaving Sam to stare at empty air. 

Mind whirling, Vimes willed his legs to work again and pressed through the braying, swaying crowd until he could suck blessedly cold air into his lungs. Most men preferred to retreat to the smoking room for a break but Sam would rather be dead than trapped with a bunch of lords who thought work was what happened to other people. 

Light rain made the balcony slippery. Sam muttered something unflattering about posh shoes when he slipped and almost fell. Suddenly, a hand grabbed his elbow, steadying him. 

“Thanks. It’s these damn—“ The rest of the sentence died when he noticed the owner of the hand. Before he could get another word out he was half pulled, half shoved into a corner, his back hitting the wall. Their eyes met for two heartbeats before Vetinari grabbed the back of Sam’s neck and closed the gap between them. 

This was such a bad idea. Positively horrendous. Sam sucked on Havelock’s tongue, pulling him closer by the lapels of his jacket. They swallowed each other’s moans when their lower bodies connected. 

“You taste like whiskey.” 

“Liquid courage,” Sam mumbled back. 

Havelock pulled back enough to raise an eyebrow. Vimes nuzzled into the warmth of Vetinari’s palm. 

“Sam—“

“I know, I know…It won’t happen again.”

“Which bit?”

“All of it. I was being an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Havelock sighed and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Sam asked.

The corner of Vetinari’s mouth twitched. “Depends, are you going to settle the bill?” 

Vimes grinned, “Of course.”

“Then, you’re forgiven. Come to the palace?” 

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that.” Vetinari replied before he took a step back and returned to the party. 

Sam sighed and brushed his hand through his damp hair. Watching the tall, slim figure of the Patrician walk away he thought there were some things he could apparently never quit. 

The End


End file.
